Always Something There to Remind Me

It started like any other day: get up, shower, eat a bagel. Then I started working on a protect for a friend, a baby blanket. And so I spent some time thinking about the baby I lost years ago. And about him. I shook it off, did something else for awhile.

Then a song came on the radio. One of Our songs. I changed the station. It was a bad voodoo day. Every station was playing a song that reminded me of him, so I finished the drive to work in silence. This was of course the worst thing I could have done; now my mind was full of him. The good times, the bad times, the tender moments, the big fights, and the romantic gestures.

Being at work with the kids didn't help either. They have been on this kick where the only game they want to play is Life. I can't help but think about the path I had mapped out for a life with him.

And then I was home alone, and the only thing more deafening than the silence was the endless string of thoughts of him, and how he left. And now he's marrying another woman, when he was supposed to marry me. And then I gave in to the impulse that I have far more often than is comfortable, although I don't give in every time.

I went into the spare room and took my wedding dress out of the closet and laid it on the bed. And stared at the bag, trying to convince myself to leave it alone. But since when do I take advice from anyone, even myself? I took it out of the bag and touched it reverently, still in awe of its perfection. And then I got out the rest: my veil, my tiara, my corset and petticoat. I removed them from all the layers of paper and plastic and laid them out beside my dress. But of course I didn't just admire them and put them away.

I put them on and stared at myself in the mirror. Looking back at me was the woman I had wanted to become, the woman that a part of me still yearns to be. My playlist finally came to THE song, Our Song. And it was just one more broken promise than I could bear. I carefully undressed and gently put away my wedding day finery before I let the first tear fall.

Why did I do this to myself? I know the answer. I still love him, even though I'll never be his bride. Not even if he asked again.